


Harry Potter and the Riddle of Lestrange

by Remyroo17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Not tagging the relationship there will be cause its not happening yet, pretty obvious what it will be though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-01-30 19:56:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21433828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remyroo17/pseuds/Remyroo17
Summary: The Malfoy's nephew, Romulus, son of Bellatrix Lestrange, comes to Hogwarts the same year as Harry, Ron, Hermione and their friends started. This is their journey.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	1. Philosopher's Stone, Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the beginning of a story I've been writing for a long while. As it stands, I've written all the way up to mid fifth year. I have a LOT of this fic. It's absolutely a self insert that I started writing when I first came out as a trans man, writing it helped me through some dark times, which is why I haven't finished it yet - I'm happier now!
> 
> I've found it's harder to write fic like this when I'm in a better place in life, so I figured I'd start posting it and hopefully any feedback would give me the kick up the bum I need to finish this story! 
> 
> Any feedback is appreciated. Tagged for general audiences but, like the books, gets heaver as it goes on.

“I’m going first,” Harry heard a boy say pompously, “I don’t want to be sitting near you all the way to Hogwarts.” He looked around for the source, and saw the same white-haired boy he’d met in Madam Malkin’s. He was with three other people: two adults who were clearly his parents – as they both had sheer white hair, albeit much longer – and a boy the same age, who had black hair like Harry’s, though clearly more well-groomed than his own.

This boy was who the blond-haired one was talking to. They clearly didn’t get along, despite being what looked like family. Harry couldn’t shake the fact that the boy stood out like a sore thumb compared to the rest of them.

He turned his trolley around and started to follow them, and it was to his shock he saw the pale blond boy disappear through a wall! He shook his head as if to rid himself of what had to be a hallucination – but no, the parents followed, walking right through what definitely looked like a brick wall.

“You look nervous. First time there too?”

Harry jumped. The dark haired boy was talking to him. He nodded dumbly. “Could you tell me how to… to-”

“How to get onto the platform? It’s really easy. You just walk straight at the wall between platforms nine and ten. We can go together if you like.”

Harry gulped. What if this was all an elaborate joke set up by the Dursleys? What if he would just slam straight into it, and they’d all jump out laughing? Then again… He’d seen the other boy in Diagon Alley, a place Hagrid said muggles just could not find – but he was still worried.

“You first,” He said. If they were both running for the wall at the same time, either they’d both crash or they’d both get through. It was the only thing Harry could think of to ruin any prank from the Dursleys – force their actors to get injured, too.

After all, crashing into another person had to be a right sight better than going head first into solid brick.

The other boy nodded, and held out his hand for Harry to shake. “I’m Romulus, by the way. Romulus Lestrange.”

“Harry Potter,” he responded, taking the boy’s hand and giving it a firm shake. Romulus seemed to hesitate for a moment.

“I've heard all about you,” he said. “My uncle told me what you did, defeating... You-Know-Who.”

Harry shrugged. “I don't remember anything,” he admitted, flattening his fringe without thinking about it. “I never knew, until recently, that I was even a wizard.”

Romulus nodded slowly in understanding, then gestured to the pillar. “Shall we?”

They then both wheeled their trolleys around to face the wall, and Romulus started to push forward, gathering speed so that he was sort of jogging towards it. Harry followed suit and closed his eyes, ready for the head-splitting pain of hitting the wall, ready to crash head-first over Romulus – but it never came.

He felt like he’d walked through slow-moving warm water, and the smell of steam from an engine reached him, and he stopped in his tracks but didn’t dare open his eyes, just in case…

“Come on, we can find a carriage together!” Romulus said, giving Harry a gentle pat on the shoulder. He opened his eyes.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, 11 o’clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the brick wall had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. He had done it.

Romulus started to push his way through the crowd, avoiding the two tall, blonde heads that bobbed around in it. Harry followed and, when they had gotten nearly to the end of the train, they started trying to heave their trunks inside it.

It was then Harry noticed that this boy had an owl, too, though his was a dark brown screech owl. It was hooting indignantly, annoyed at having been set down on the floor of the platform while the two boys were ignoring it. Hedwig was caged next to it, standing still and straight as if to show it what a good owl should do.

“Oh, shut up, Belren, it’s only for a minute!” Romulus sighed, trying to pull his trunk up into the carriage. Harry, meanwhile, was trying to push his onto the carriage from the bottom, and both were clearly struggling quite badly.

“Want a hand?” It was a pair of red-headed twins Harry had passed in the station earlier, who’d been with a plump ginger woman, two other brothers and a younger sister, too.

“Yes please,” Harry panted.

With the twins’ help, Romulus and Harry’s trunks were at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

“Thanks,” Harry said, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes. Romulus had already sat down inside the carriage.

“What’s that?” One of the twins said suddenly, pointing at Harry’s lightning scar.

“Blimey,” said the other twin, “Are you–?”

“He is,” said the first twin, “Aren’t you?” he added to Harry.

“What?” said Harry.

“Harry Potter,” chorused the twins.

“Oh, him,” said Harry. “I mean, yes, I am.”

They disappeared back into the crowd, grinning to themselves, and Harry could hear them telling their plump mother all about how they just helped him onto the train.

He sat down between Romulus and the window, and absent-mindedly flattened his hair, hiding his scar.

“Everyone’s going to react like that, aren’t they?” He asked out loud, staring out of the window. In the corner of his eye, he could see Romulus nodding.

“I’m sure you’ll learn to deal with it. And besides, it’ll die down once you’ve been around a while.”

Harry secretly hoped he was right. Eleven years without the slightest bit of positive attention, all this ‘being famous’ stuff was making him feel a bit queasy.

~*~

When the train started moving five minutes later, the hubbub in the corridors and other carriages only got louder, coinciding with Harry’s excitement that he was finally on his way to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest red-headed boy came in. “Anyone sitting there?” he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. “Everywhere else is full.”

Harry and Romulus both shook their heads. “Just us,” Romulus said.

The boy glanced at Harry and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn’t looked.

“Are you really Harry Potter?” He blurted out. Harry nodded.

“Oh – well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George’s jokes.” He said. “And have you really got – you know…” He pointed at Harry’s forehead.

Harry pulled back his fringe to show the lightning scar. The boy stared.

“So that’s where You-Know-Who –?”

“Yes,” said Harry, “but I can’t remember it.”

“Blimey…” the boy gulped. “Oh, I’m Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley.” He looked to Romulus. “I never knew Harry Potter had a brother.”

Harry and Romulus looked at each other, and then looked at Ron.

“What?” Harry said.

“We’re not –” Romulus started.

“– Don’t have any brothers.” Harry finished.

Ron raised his eyebrows. “Sorry, you just look so similar…” He trailed off, embarrassed at his mistake.

Romulus and Harry looked at each other again, this time trying to determine their similarities. Harry supposed they did have the same colour hair, and it seemed their faces were the same shape – and their eyes! Harry noticed with a jolt that Romulus’ eyes were the same shade of emerald green as his own.

They looked away from each other.

“I’m pretty certain Romulus isn’t my brother. If he was, I might have had a nicer time growing up,” Harry smiled at Ron. Romulus nodded in agreement.

“Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t have an awful upbringing – but the Malfoys don’t express their emotions all too often. If my aunt and uncle liked me, they never showed it.”

Harry and Ron spoke at the same time:

“You were raised by the Malfoys?” said Ron.

“You were raised by your aunt and uncle too?” said Harry.

Romulus nodded at Harry, then looked at Ron.

“But the Malfoys,” Ron continued, “They’ve got a right reputation. My dad reckons they were in You-Know-Who’s inner circle! Not that he could ever prove it… But they’re dark wizards, the Malfoys.”

Romulus just nodded. “My mother is my aunt’s sister. Her and my dad are in prison. They followed him too.” He sounded almost disgusted by this fact.

“What’s your last name then?” Ron asked curiously.

“Lestrange.”

There was a pause. Ron seemed gob-smacked, while Harry didn’t know the significance of this revelation.

“But…” Ron started. “But you…”

“But I what?” Romulus asked defensively, sitting up a little straighter.

“Well,” Ron muttered. “You seem alright…”

Romulus sat back again. There was more silence.

“I’ve never agreed with anything my family believe in.” He stated, as if to set the record straight. “Blood purity,” he spat. “What a load of old bol–”

“Anything from the trolley, dears?”

A short and stocky old witch was stood in the doorway, one hand on a trolley piled with food and drinks.

Harry, who hadn’t had any breakfast, jumped to his feet, but Ron’s ears went pink and he muttered that he’d brought sandwiches. Harry went out into the corridor.

He had never had any money for sweets with the Dursleys, and now that he had pockets rattling with gold and silver he was ready to buy as many Mars Bars as he could carry – but the woman didn’t have Mars Bars. What she did have were Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavour Beans, Droobles Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Liquorice Wands and a number of other strange things Harry had never seen in his life. Not wanting to miss anything, he got some of everything and paid the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts.

Romulus got himself a pumpkin pasty, a liquorice wand, and a glass bottle of pumpkin juice.

Ron stared as Harry brought it all back into the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat.

“Hungry, are you?”

“Starving,” Said Harry, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty. Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches in there. He pulled one of them apart and said, “She always forgets I don’t like corned beef.”

“Swap you for one of these,” said Harry, holding up a pasty. “Go on –”

“You don’t want this, it’s all dry,” said Ron. “She hasn’t got much time,” he added quickly, “you know, with five of us.”

“Go on, have a pasty,” said Harry, who had never had anything to share before or, indeed, anyone to share it with. It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Ron and Romulus, eating their way through all Harry’s pasties and cakes (the sandwiches lay forgotten).

The rat had climbed out of Ron’s pocket, and was now nibbling on a corner of pastry that had fallen into his lap.

“This is Scabbers,” he said, looking down at the feeble rodent, who had just fallen asleep with pastry sticking out of his mouth. “He might have died and you wouldn’t know the difference,” Said Ron in disgust. “I tried to turn him yellow yesterday – you know, to make him a bit more interesting – but the spell didn’t work. I’ll show you, look…”

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places, and something white was glimmering at the end.

“Unicorn hair’s nearly poking out. Anyway –”

He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. A girl stood there, already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one,” She said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth.

The three boys shook their heads. “We haven’t seen one,” Ron said, but the girl wasn’t listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

“Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see it, then.”

She sat down. Ron looked taken aback.

“Er – all right.” He cleared his throat.

“Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow; turn this stupid fat rat yellow.”

He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed grey and fast asleep.

“Are you sure that’s a real spell?” said the girl. “Well, it’s not very good, is it? I’ve tried a few simple spells just for practice and it’s all worked for me. Nobody in my family’s magic at all, it was all such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it’s the best school for witchcraft there is, I’ve heard – I’ve learnt all our set books off by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough – I’m Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?” She said all this very fast.

Harry looked at Ron and was relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn’t learnt all the set books off by heart either.

“I’m Ron Weasley.”

“Romulus Lestrange.”

“Harry Potter.”

“Are you really?” Said Hermione. “I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books for background reading, and you’re in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.”

“Am I?” said Harry, feeling dazed.

“Goodness, didn’t you know? I’d have found out everything I could if it was me,” said Hermione. “Do any of you know what house you’ll be in? I’ve been asking around and I hope I’m in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best, I hear Dumbledore himself was one, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad… Anyway, I’d better go and look for Neville’s toad. You three had better change, you know, I expect we’ll be there soon.” She turned on her heel and left.

The three boys stared after her, wondering how it was possible for her to talk so quickly without losing breath, before looking around at each other.

“What house are you hoping for?” Romulus asked, looking at Ron.

“Not hers,” he laughed. “But all my brothers are in Gryffindor, mum and dad too. I don’t know what they’ll say if I’m not in it. I don’t suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin.”

“That’s the house Vol– I mean, You-Know-Who was in?” asked Harry.

Romulus and Ron both nodded. The latter flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.

“My whole family’s been in Slytherin,” Romulus said defensively. “My aunt, uncle, mother, father – everyone.” Ron looked a little ashamed again. “Narcissa told me that my mother would be very disappointed if I weren’t in Slytherin,” he continued, then paused. “I don’t want my mother to be disappointed – but I also don’t want to turn out evil,” he admitted.

Harry looked at him for a moment. “Well,” he started, “No matter what house you’re in, I’ll still be your friend,” he nodded, “– If you want to be my friend, that is…” He was relieved that Romulus then nodded, too.

They both looked at Ron, who seemed hesitant about this, but he thought it over for a few moments. “We’ll keep you on the right track,” he finally said, and the three of them now shared more sweets, content in their newfound friendship.

A little while later, the conversation turned to the wizarding sport: Quidditch. Ron and Romulus were both gushing to Harry about how incredible the game was. They were just having an argument about who the better team was (Chudley Cannons vs Holyhead Harpies) when the door slid open yet again, but it wasn’t Hermione Granger this time.

Three boys stood there, and Harry recognised the middle one at once: it was the pale boy from Madam Malkin’s robe shop. He was looking at Harry with a lot more interest than he’d shown back in Diagon Alley.

“So it’s true then. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts.”

Harry stared back at him, and Romulus was looking at the other two boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing either side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards.

“This is Crabbe,” said Malfoy, gesturing either side of him, “and Goyle. And I’m Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.”

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him. “Think my name’s funny, do you? No need to ask yours. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford.”

He looked back at Harry. “You’ll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.”

He held out his hand to shake Harry’s, but Harry didn’t take it.

“I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks.”

Draco Malfoy didn’t go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.

“I’d be careful if I were you, Potter,” he said slowly. “Unless you’re a bit more polite, you’ll go the same way as your parents. They didn’t know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riff-raff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it’ll rub off on you.”

Harry, Ron and Romulus all stood up. Ron’s face was as red as his hair. This seemed to be the first time Malfoy noticed Romulus was even there.

“Say that again.” Ron dared.

“Oh, you’re going to fight us, are you?” Malfoy sneered.

~*~

“Lovely cousin you’ve got there, Rom.” Ron said, putting on a more well-spoken tone, the hint of a smile on his face. “Why on earth did you never introduce us all before?”

The three boys laughed, still able to hear Malfoy and his cronies retreating further down the train, as well as Hermione’s bossy footsteps heading the other way.

Harry peered out of the window. It was getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under deep-purple sky. The train seemed to be slowing down. 


	2. Philosopher's Stone, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second half of the journey through the first book.

“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted.” Professor McGonnagall called out.

“Abbot, Hannah.”

“HUFFLEPUFF,” the hat shouted at once. The three boys looked between each other in nervousness. Hannah made her way over to a table with yellow and black hangings above it. The professor called down the list until she reached a familiar name.

“Granger, Hermione!”

There was a small squeak behind them, and Hermione made her way between them up to the stool. The hat seemed to hesitate upon being placed on her head, but after a few moments Harry was sure he saw it nod slightly, and called out, “GRYFFINDOR!”

Hermione jumped down with glee, and ran to the table draped with red and gold, all of whose students were cheering.

Further down the list McGonnagall went, until she reached the first of their number.

“Lestrange, Romulus!”

He gulped. Harry and Ron gave him encouraging nudges, and he remembered their promise from earlier. They’d still be friends, no matter what. He made his way forwards.

The hat took longer for him than it had for anyone so far. A student behind them muttered that this was what’s called a ‘hatstall’ – where the hat simply can’t decide which of two houses are better suited to a student.

Harry looked up at the head table. Hagrid was smiling at him warmly. As he moved his gaze along, it found a very old, very important looking man sat in the dead centre of the table. His hair and beard were both completely white, and the latter was so long it disappeared under the table. His chair was larger and grander than everyone else’s, and Harry recognised him at once. Albus Dumbledore.

The Headmaster was watching Romulus intently. He seemed incredibly interested in which house the boy was placed in.

“SLYTHERIN.” The hat shouted. Everyone in the hall jumped, it having been so quiet that the yell was unexpected.

Romulus hopped down from the stool and placed the hat gingerly back on it. He didn’t want to look at Ron and Harry, he feared their promise was broken. It was only when he sat down at the Slytherin table that he chanced a glance at them. They had both been following him with their gaze, and as soon as he looked up they each gave him a thumbs up. He nodded at them thankfully.

“Malfoy, Draco!”

The blond-haired boy made his way up, and the hat had barely touched his head when it yelled ‘Slytherin’. He smirked, and made his way over to the green and silver table, sitting as far from Romulus as possible.

The P section drew nearer and nearer, and Harry’s fear grew and grew. He knew it was just a matter of time before–

“Potter, Harry!”

“Did she say Potter? Harry Potter?” The entire hall was whispering now, and Harry heard his name pass through a hundred lips in hushed tones, as if he wouldn’t overhear them. His legs felt like jelly, but somehow he made his way forward and sat down. McGonnagall placed the hat on his head.

He heard a voice in his ear.

“Hmm, difficult, very difficult… Plenty of courage, I see, not a bad mind either – there’s talent, oh yes, and a thirst to prove yourself. But where to put you?”

‘Not Slytherin’, Harry thought desperately. ‘Please not Slytherin.’

“Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You could be great, you know – It’s all here, in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, there’s no doubt about that.”

‘Not Slytherin, anything but Slytherin!’

“No? Well, if you’re sure. Better be… GRYFFINDOR.” Harry heard the hat shout this last word to the whole hall, and a great feeling of relief flooded him – equalled by a great feeling of guilt.

He’d promised Romulus that they would be friends even if he’d been put in Slytherin – and yet here Harry was, desperately wishing not to be in the same house. Was that why the hat had taken so long with Rom? Because he was pleading to be put somewhere else? But then why had he been sorted to Slytherin when Harry had done the same, and was in Gryffindor?

He looked over at the Slytherin table, where Rom was smiling and nodding at him. He seemed very happy for Harry to be in Gryffindor. Harry wondered if this was where Romulus wanted to be – and his words on the train came back to him. ‘I don’t want to disappoint my mother’.

Harry couldn’t say how he knew, but it was then he realised Rom had asked the hat to be put in Slytherin. He must have done, it was the only logical explanation. He had asked to go into Slytherin for his parents’ sake, but held close Harry’s promise to remain friends. Harry nodded back at him, and smiled.

“Weasley, Ronald!” McGonnagall shouted, and Ron went white as a sheet.

This time, the hat spoke to the whole hall.

“Ah, another Weasley! I know just what to do with you… GRYFFINDOR!”

Ron smiled in relief, and slipped off the stool to run and sit next to Harry. His brothers were cheering and patting him on the back. Fred was saying, “You’re not evil after all! Thank goodness, we were so worried!”

McGonnagall carried on through the list, and after Zabini, Blaise was sorted, she rolled up her parchment and took the stool away. Zabini took the empty spot next to Romulus, and shook his hand.

They stayed at their respective house tables all through the main course, but when that disappeared and dessert took its place, Romulus said goodbye to Blaise Zabini and stood up.

He walked calmly over to the Gryffindor table – which was all the way on the other side of the room – watched by the teachers and many of the students. Ron and Harry parted to allow him to sit between them, and together they tucked into sweets, cake and ice cream.

Fred and George stared at him.

“Do you think that’s ever happened before?” Fred asked his brother loudly.

“Not even once, not in the history of this school,” George answered. Romulus and Harry both looked up (Ron was busying himself with assigning each dessert a different spot on his plate).

“A Slytherin,” Fred said,

“Sitting with the Gryffindors,” George said,

“Willingly.” Finished Fred.

Rom hesitated. “A-aren’t we allowed?”

“Of course you’re allowed,” chimed in another Weasley – Harry took this to be Percy, Ron’s older brother and Gryffindor prefect. “It’s unusual for students to move benches at the welcome feast, and for a Slytherin to sit with us, of all people – but there’s no rule against it.”

He was smiling at Romulus, seemingly trying to reassure him, but it made him feel worse. “Are you saying that no Slytherin has ever been friends with a Gryffindor?” He asked.

“Of course not – it’s just rare, that’s all,” Hermione butted in. “Historically, Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin were originally best friends. They ended up having a truly awful falling out over their beliefs, and the two houses have hated each other ever since. Every now and then, you’ll get a pair of siblings perhaps, or people who were friends for years beforehand, sorted respectively into the two houses. But their partnerships haven’t exactly worked out in the end.”

If Hermione was attempting to make Harry and Rom feel better, she wasn’t doing so very well.

“Well there won’t be a problem then, will there?” Ron said, his mouth full of trifle. “Rom said on the train, he disagrees with everything his family ever stood for.”

This did help a bit, even though a lump of Ron’s trifle had landed on top of Rom’s chocolate cake.

When the time came to head off to bed, Harry, Ron and Romulus said their goodbyes, and Romulus went off to join his house again.

~*~*~

Harry soon found out that both Romulus and Hermione excelled at Potions – for Romulus, it was his best subject. Harry and Ron both struggled, but Romulus always made sure to come and sit with them in Snape’s dungeon, offering his assistance whenever Snape wasn’t looking.

Professor Snape himself was very annoyed. How dare Romulus, a Slytherin, socialise with Gryffindors – especially Harry Potter. At least, that’s what the boys would joke about outside of the classroom. They laughed that Snape was taking it personally, as he’d already made it clear that he disliked Harry.

When they had their second flying lesson (one where everyone actually got to fly, instead of just Harry and Draco like last time), Hermione commented that Romulus was a natural. The other Slytherins also seemed very impressed with him, much to Draco’s chagrin.

Madam Hooch told him to try out for Quidditch that weekend, and Romulus grinned at Harry, who had already made Gryffindor Seeker.

~*~*~*~

When Christmas came, Romulus was the only Slytherin who had signed up to stay over the holidays. He knew that Ron and Harry were staying too, and it was this that made him steel himself and wait behind at the end of McGonnagall’s lesson on the last day of classes.

“What is it, Lestrange?” She asked, peering over the top of her glasses at him, examining him as he stood the other side of her desk. Ron, Harry and Hermione lingered by the door.

“It’s just that… Well, Professor, I was wondering…” He hesitated. She was still staring at him. He just had to grit his teeth and do it. “I’m the only Slytherin staying for Christmas, and Harry and Ron are both staying, and I don’t want to wake up Christmas morning and open presents all on my own, and Harry and Ron are my best friends you see, and I just wanted to –”

“To ask if you can stay in Gryffindor house for Christmas?” She said slowly, having cut him off. He nodded.

She finally tore her gaze from him, and looked around him at her three Gryffindors, who all looked eager for her to say yes.

“Your circumstances are certainly unusual, Romulus,” She began, thinking over her words carefully. “I, personally, would like to give you permission –” He grinned, “However,” she continued, and his grin fell. “This is a situation where I must ask the Headmaster. I, for one, cannot recall a time wherein a student has wanted to stay in a different common room. You must understand that.”

He nodded at her. Again, she regarded him for a moment. She always saw him sitting at the Gryffindor table, every single mealtime, his green and silver tie standing out from the mass of red and gold. She did, after all, treat him as one of her own students. Like Hermione, he was currently top of the class.

“I will ask the headmaster this evening, before dinner,” she told him, “and I will give you his answer then.”

The four students sat together that mealtime – as they usually did. Harry and Ron on one side of the Gryffindor table, Romulus and Hermione on the other. Once everyone was talking and eating, and the noise was just enough that McGonnagall didn’t think she’d be overheard too badly, she made her way down to the Gryffindor table and over to Romulus.

They looked at her eagerly.

“Professor Dumbledore has given his consent for Romulus to stay in the Gryffindor common room – for Christmas Eve’s night only. I don’t doubt that you already know the password, Lestrange, but the Headmaster does not want to risk that information spreading through different houses.”

That Christmas Eve, Ron, Harry and Rom made their way up to Gryffindor tower. McGonnagall was right – he did know the Gryffindor password, but before now had never actually been inside the common room.

Neville, Dean and Seamus had all gone home for the holidays, so he set his rucksack down on an empty bed and looked around. Gryffindor tower was much more homely than the Slytherin dungeon. Some of the Christmas bunting, usually gold and red, had been replaced with silver and green to welcome him.

That night, Harry went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all. When he woke early next morning, however, the first thing he saw was a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed.

“Happy Christmas,” said Ron sleepily as Harry scrambled out of bed and pulled on his dressing gown.

“You too,” said Harry. “Will you look at this? I’ve got some presents!”

“What did you expect, turnips?” said Ron, turning to his own pile, which was a lot bigger than Harry’s.

Harry picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Harry, from Hagrid. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it – it sounded a bit like an owl.

A second, very small parcel contained a note.

We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Sellotaped to the note was a fifty-pence piece.

“That’s friendly,” said Harry.

Ron was fascinated by the coin.

“Weird!” He said. “What a shape! This is money?”

“You can keep it,” said Harry, laughing at how pleased Ron was. “Hagrid and my aunt and uncle – so who sent these?”

“I think I know who that one’s from,” said Ron, going a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. “My mum. I told her you didn’t expect any presents and – oh, no,” he groaned, “she’s made you a Weasley jumper.”

Ron looked over at Romulus, who had only just sat up, pushing his hair back. “Looks like you’ve got one too, Rom,” he said, pointing at a similarly lumpy parcel on top of Romulus’ others.

Harry had torn open his parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of home-made fudge.

“Every year she makes us a jumper,” said Ron, unwrapping his own, “and mine’s always maroon.”

“That’s really nice of her,” Romulus smiled, holding up his own Weasley jumper, which was a dark blue, not unlike the colour of the evening sky.

~*~*~*~

“Will your aunt and uncle mind seeing you with us?” Hermione asked, as the train began to slow down, and the view from the windows was now filled with houses, businesses, and visible towards the front of the train was the tower of London.

“Draco’s probably already told them. I should think they’ve sent a letter to mother, too. ‘Yes, he’s in Slytherin, but he’s a rotten blood-traitor and is friends with the Potter boy,” he laughed. “Really, I don’t mind what they think. You’re my friends. That won’t change.”


	3. Chamber of Secrets

When Harry and Romulus met again, it was back at Hogwarts that September. Romulus had come over to the Gryffindor table, wondering how on earth Harry and Ron hadn’t gotten expelled. It was after that school day had finished that they finally got to talk about their summers.

Harry told Romulus and Hermione all about Dobby the house elf, and then about how nice it was to stay at Ron’s and feel so welcome (Ron’s ears went pink at this). Hermione told of how she’d gone to the south of France with her parents for a week out of the holidays, and Romulus had spent nearly all his time in his room, reading. 

He apologised in person to Ron, who had sent an owl telling him that Harry was there for the week, and asking if he wanted to come and stay, too. “As soon as I asked uncle Lucius, he tore it up. Told me that the last thing he’d let me do was stay with  _ the Weasleys _ ,” He explained. “Said I’d bring shame upon the family. So I told him, yknow, I’m not part of his family. I was in my room after that.”

~*~*~

It had been just two days after Colin Creevey was found petrified, and as Romulus left Potions at the end of the school day, he was cut off from Harry, Ron and Hermione by none other than Professor Snape.

“The Headmaster wishes to see you, Lestrange,” he said, in his drawling tone that could hold a class on the edge of their seats or just as easily send them to sleep. “If you’ll follow me,” he said and, without giving Romulus a chance to reply, turned on his heel and headed down the corridor.

Ron, Harry and Hermione all looked at each other and then back at Romulus, who was looking at them worriedly. He followed Snape nonetheless, wondering what on earth he might have done to merit an audience with the Headmaster.

He had to force himself not to laugh when he heard Snape mutter ‘Sherbet Lemon’ in front of a large gargoyle statue, which immediately leapt aside to reveal a revolving staircase. Snape looked down at Romulus and nodded his head towards the stairs. Romulus stepped forwards and onto the moving staircase, which led him up to a great pair of oak doors.

He knocked twice, and from the other side of the door came a muffled ‘Enter.’

The door opened by itself, and Romulus looked around. Dumbledore’s office was large and circular, and directly opposite the door was his great desk. Dumbledore was sitting behind it in his grand chair, and gestured to the plainer seats in front.

Romulus couldn’t feel his legs, and he definitely hadn’t told them to move, but he walked towards the desk and sat down in one of the chairs, his potions book held tight against his chest.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve called you here, Romulus.”

He nodded. It was unusual to be addressed by his first name from the Headmaster himself – before this, Dumbledore had never even spoken to him.

“I don’t want you to worry, dear boy,” he said, his blue eyes twinkling at Romulus, “I’d just like to ask you a few questions, that’s all.”

Romulus stayed quiet, which Dumbledore took as consent.

“Did you have anything to do with the petrification of Mrs Norris or Colin Creevey?” He asked simply.

Romulus was taken aback.

“Excuse me?”

Dumbledore repeated himself in the same tone. Romulus stared at him incredulously before realisation dawned on him.

“You think I did this?”

“I am only asking if you were remotely involved.”

“You think I did this.”

“Romulus –” Dumbledore started, but he didn’t get to finish. Romulus had stood up, and was glaring down at him with such hatred that he’d found himself speechless.

“The only person who can open that chamber is the heir of Slytherin. Professor Binns told us so. I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, Professor –”

“I am not implying anything, I am merely conducting an investigation –”

“You haven’t called Ron up here, or Hermione, or Harry. Why is your first culprit me? What does that say you think of me? You’d do better to interrogate Draco about it, he’s the one who hates muggleborns, and he’s the one who prides himself on pure-blood mania. No, you want to investigate the boy with a muggleborn, a blood-traitor and a half-blood for his best friends, not to mention the half-squib that is Neville Longbottom. Do you think I’m some sort of spy? Do you think I’m only friends with them to, what, help the Malfoys kill Harry on Voldemort’s behalf?” He ranted, stopping only when Dumbledore, too, stood up.

He instantly regretted everything he’d just said.

“While I understand your emotions,” He began quietly, but firmly. “I do not appreciate being spoken to in such a way. You must understand, Romulus, that what has happened here so far this year is very, very serious. I am not trying to imply that you are the culprit, I am merely ruling out every option. For all I know, these events could be a very elaborate prank set up by the older students, and you and your friends were merely caught in its midst. But I must investigate every route, you understand me?”

Romulus nodded, deciding not to say another word.

“You may go.”

He rushed down to the Great Hall, quicker than he’d perhaps ever moved in his life, and dashed straight to Harry, Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table, plonking himself next to the latter.

“What happened?” Harry asked straight away.

Romulus didn’t know whether to tell them everything, so he settled for the only fact he’d come away with.

“Dumbledore thinks I’m the heir of Slytherin.”

“What?!” The other three said together. Romulus nodded.

“He asked me if I’d had anything to do with the attacks. Why ask me? Why would a second year have anything to do with it?”

“But how does that make you the heir of Slytherin?” Ron asked.

“Remember what Professor Binns said?” Hermione told him. “That only the heir would be able to open the Chamber of Secrets. If Dumbledore thinks Romulus was behind it, then it reasons that Dumbledore thinks Romulus is the heir of Slytherin.”

~*~*~*~

“Aren’t you coming?” Ron asked. Harry was reading the piece of paper he’d taken from Hermione’s hand over and over again.

Romulus, sat in the chair by her bedside, shook his head. “I’m going to stay here with her. You guys go.” He was talking to Harry and Ron, but he was staring at Hermione. Harry and Ron looked at each other, then back at him. “Seriously, go. If anyone can sort this mess out, it’s you two.” He placed his hand on Hermione’s and squeezed a little.

Harry and Ron disappeared out of sight. 

Hours later, after Harry and Ron had been treated for their injuries and left for dinner, Dumbledore strode into the hospital wing. Romulus turned his head away, not wanting to catch his eye.

Dumbledore spoke quietly with Madam Pomfrey in her office for a minute, then came back out and headed straight for Romulus, standing on the other side of Hermione’s bed.

“I think we ought to talk, Romulus.”

Rom paid him no mind, just kept his eyes on Hermione. Like before, Dumbledore took this as consent to speak.

“Madam Pomfrey tells me that you have stubbornly refused to leave Miss Granger’s bedside for almost two days now.”

Romulus nodded. Dumbledore regarded him for a moment, and then continued.

“Miss Weasley had been taken inside the Chamber of Secrets,” he said bluntly. Romulus looked up immediately. “Misters Potter and Weasley went after her, and Harry saved her life. The information that Harry has now given me changes the fact that I did initially suspect you.”

“I knew it,” Romulus muttered. “Everyone thought it was Harry, all because he spoke Parseltongue at that Duelling Club. And all along you thought it was me.”

“But it wasn’t.” Dumbledore said firmly. “I was wrong. But I feel compelled to tell you  _ why _ I thought it was you.”

Romulus just looked at him, and Dumbledore sat down in the other chair.

“You see, Romulus… When you were called forward to the sorting hat last year, I was very confused. Mr and Mrs Lestrange were, perhaps, Lord Voldemort’s greatest followers – but I hadn’t known they had a son. I am possibly the one man who knows the most about Voldemort’s followers, second only to Voldemort himself, so your arrival shocked me.

“I, over the next year, I corresponded with my allies outside of Hogwarts, with others who knew the Lestranges, and some information came to light that none had ever known.”

He stopped here, and smiled almost sadly at Romulus.

“You see, Bellatrix Lestrange did, in fact, give birth to a son – you – twenty-three months before she was sent to Azkaban. But Rodolphus Lestrange is  _ not _ your father.”

“Who is?”

This was the question Albus had been waiting for, for he straightened up and looked very seriously over the top of his glasses.

“Lord Voldemort.”

It was as though Romulus’ whole world came crashing down around him.

“Raised by the Malfoys, I of course suspected you from the beginning. I presumed that they had told you your true heritage, and that you were living up to your ancestry. Now, I know this to be incorrect.” He watched the way Romulus was looking at Hermione. “Of course, you could never hurt Miss Granger, could you? It’s not within your being to be so cruel.”

Romulus shook his head.

“Now, I believe that Voldemort chose to conceive an heir, just in case he fell from power or died. That he wanted someone of his own blood to continue his work. But clearly, he failed miserably.”

Romulus looked up at him.

“When I thought about how long the hat took to put you in Slytherin, I was, again, confused. I thought it was in your blood. Slytherin literally runs through your veins, I couldn’t fathom why you were not an immediate placement. So I asked the only person who would know – the hat itself.

“It told me all about what it had said to you, and you to it. It told me of how adamant you were to be placed in Slytherin, despite his attempt to place you elsewhere. He refused to tell me which house he would have given you. I must ask you, Romulus, why you asked to be placed in Slytherin.”

Romulus hesitated and looked at Hermione again, then back to Dumbledore. “I didn’t want to disappoint my mother,” he admitted. “Aunt Narcissa had told me mother would be disappointed if I wasn’t.” He paused for a moment. “Harry and Ron told me that, no matter what house I was in, we could still be friends. I decided I wanted to be in Slytherin, for my mother’s sake, because I knew Harry and Ron would stick by me.”

“And stick, they did,” Dumbledore smiled. “And now I feel I must encroach upon your privacy, and ask which house the hat wanted to put you in.”

From the way Dumbledore was looking at him, Romulus could tell he already knew the answer, but it felt prudent to answer it.

“Gryffindor.”

Dumbledore began to nod straight away.

“I want you to be aware, Romulus, that you are in fact quite similar to your father in appearance, when he was your age. But your heart and your soul are very, very different. You are kind, and brave, and you are stubborn. You are truly a Gryffindor – and yet, you are truly a Slytherin too. If I’m not mistaken, you are the one who makes mischievous plans for you and your friends. You are the one who comes up with cunning, sneaky ideas to skirt the rules and get exactly what you want.

“Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart. Slytherin, who use any means to achieve their ends. You are both, well and truly.”

He was smiling properly now, and it made Romulus smile slightly.

“I would like to extend to you the freedom to come and go from the Gryffindor common room as you please, provided you sleep in the Slytherin dormitories – apart from Christmas, of course.”

“You mean it?” Romulus finally spoke. “I’m really nothing like him?”

“Absolutely nothing. Only time will tell us what kind of man you will be, but for now, you are certainly a good one.”

~*~*~*~

“Go on then, you were going to tell us what Dumbledore said to you,” Ron prompted, digging in his backpack for some left over sweets as the train began to leave Hogsmeade Station.

“You have to promise not to be shocked,” Romulus said, straightening his shirt nervously.

Harry, Ron and Hermione all looked at him.

“It’s serious, then?” Hermione muttered. He nodded.

“He was right, earlier in the year. I  _ am _ the heir of Slytherin.”

Ron and Harry looked at each other. Hermione had already worked it out, and as Romulus looked at Harry, he could see that the gears were turning in his head.

“But that means,” Harry started, sitting up straighter. “Well, unless Voldemort has a cousin or brother or something, it means that you’re…”

Ron looked, confused, between them. “He’s what?”

“You-Know-Who’s son,” Hermione finished quietly. “But don’t worry, Romulus, you’re such a good person, you can’t possibly be anything like him!”

“I’m not,” Romulus said. “Dumbledore told me that I’m nothing like him.” He was still looking at Harry, who hadn’t spoken.

Harry, whose parents had been killed by the father of the boy sat in front of him. Harry, who had very nearly died himself that night. Harry, who had met Voldemort three times now. Harry, who his best friend’s father had earmarked for death.

“He’s right,” Harry finally said. “You’re not. Dumbledore told me, he said that it’s our choices that show who we really are, more than our abilities. Just because you and I can speak Parseltongue, doesn’t mean we’re evil. Just because a piece of Voldemort lives inside me, doesn’t mean I’m evil. Just because his blood runs through you, it doesn’t mean you’re evil.”


	4. Prisoner of Azkaban, Part 1

Gazing absently over the rooftops, it was a few seconds before Harry realised what he was seeing.

Silhouetted against the golden moon, and growing greater every moment, was a large, strangely lop-sided creature, and it was flapping in Harry’s direction. He stood quite still, watching it sink lower and lower. For a split second, he hesitated, his hand on the window latch, wondering whether to slam it shut, but then the bizarre creature soared over one of the streetlamps of Privet Drive, and Harry, realising what it was, leapt aside.

Through the window soared four owls, two of them holding up the third, which appeared to be unconscious. They landed with a soft  _ flump _ on Harry’s bed, and the middle owl, which was large and grey, keeled right over and lay motionless. There was a large package tied to its legs.

Harry recognised the unconscious owl at once – his name was Errol, and he belonged to the Weasley family. Harry dashed to the bed at once, untied the cords around Errol’s legs, took off the parcel and then carried Errol to Hedwig’s cage. Errol opened one bleary eye, gave a feeble hoot of thanks, and began to gulp some water.

Harry turned back to the remaining owls. One of them, the large snowy female, was his own Hedwig. She, too, was carrying a parcel, and looked extremely pleased with herself. She gave Harry an affectionate nip with her beak as he removed her burden, then flew across the room to join Errol.

The third owl was called Belren, a large and intimidating screech owl. This owl belonged to Romulus, one of Harry’s closest friends. Harry removed his package too and, despite looking so intimidating, the owl gently nuzzled against Harry’s hand, hooted at him and then at Hedwig, and took flight again, straight out of the window.

Harry didn’t recognise the fourth owl, a handsome tawny one, but he knew at once where it had come from, because in addition to its parcel, it was carrying a letter bearing the Hogwarts crest. When Harry relieved this owl of its post it ruffled its feathers importantly, stretched its wings and took off through the open window after Belren, into the night.

Harry sat down on his bed, grabbed Errol’s package, ripped off the brown paper and discovered a present wrapped in gold, and his first ever birthday card. Fingers trembling slightly, he opened the envelope. Two pieces of paper fell out – a letter and a newspaper cutting.

The cutting had clearly come out of the wizarding newspaper, the  _ Daily Prophet _ , because the people in the black and white picture were moving. Harry picked up the cutting, smoothed it out and read:

MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE

Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office at the Ministry

of Magic, has won the Annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw.

A delighted Mr Weasley told the Daily Prophet, “We will be spending the

gold on a summer holiday in Egypt, where our eldest son, Bill, works

as a curse breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank.”

The Weasley family will be spending a month in Egypt, returning for the start of the

new school year at Hogwarts, which five of the Weasley children currently attend.

Harry scanned the moving photograph, and a grin spread across his face as he saw all nine of the Weasleys waving furiously at him, standing in front of a large pyramid. Plump little Mrs Weasley, tall, balding Mr Weasley, six sons and one daughter, all (though the black and white picture didn’t show it) with flaming red hair. Right in the middle of the picture was Ron, tall and gangling, with his pet rat Scabbers on his shoulder and his arm around his little sister, Ginny.

Harry couldn’t think of anyone who deserved to win a large pile of gold more than the Weasleys, who were very nice and extremely poor. He picked up Ron’s letter and unfolded it.

Dear Harry,

Happy Birthday!

Look, I’m really sorry about that telephone call. I hope the Muggles didn’t give you a hard time. I asked dad, and he reckons I shouldn’t have shouted.

It’s brilliant here in Egypt. Bill’s taken us round all the tombs and you wouldn’t believe the curses those old Egyptian wizards put on them. Mum wouldn’t let Ginny come in the last one. There were all these mutant skeletons in there, of Muggles who’d broken in and grown extra heads and stuff.

I couldn’t believe it when Dad won the Daily Prophet draw. Seven hundred galleons! Most of its gone on this holiday, but they’re going to buy me a new wand for next year.

We’ll be back about a week before term starts, and we’ll be going up to London to get my wand and our new books. Any chance of meeting you there?

Don’t let the Muggles get you down!

Try and come to London,

Ron

PS: Percy’s Head Boy. He got the letter last week.

Harry now turned to his present and unwrapped it. Inside was what looked like a miniature glass spinning top. There was another note from Ron beneath it.

Harry – this is a pocket Sneakoscope. If there’s someone untrustworthy around, it’s supposed to light up and spin. Bill says its rubbish sold for wizard tourists and isn’t reliable, because it kept lighting up at dinner last night. But he didn’t realise Fred and George had put beetles in his soup.

Bye – Ron

Harry put the pocket Sneakoscope on his bedside table, where it stood quite still, balanced on its point, reflecting the luminous hands of his clock. He looked at it happily for a few seconds, then picked up the parcel Hedwig had brought.

Inside this, too, there was a wrapped present, a card and a letter, this time from Hermione.

Dear Harry,

Ron wrote to me and told me about his phone call to your Uncle Vernon. I do hope you’re all right.

I’m on holiday in France at the moment and I didn’t know how I was going to send this to you – what if they’d opened it at Customs? – But then Hedwig turned up! I think she wanted to make sure you got something for your birthday for a change. I bought your present by owl-order; there was an advertisement in the Daily Prophet (I’ve been getting it delivered, it’s so good to keep up with what’s going on in the wizarding world). Did you see that picture of Ron and his family a week ago? I bet he’s learning loads, I’m really jealous – the ancient Egyptian wizards were fascinating.

There’s some interesting local history of witchcraft here, too. I’ve rewritten my whole History of Magic essay to include some of the things I’ve found out. I hope it’s not too long, its two rolls of parchment more than Professor Binns asked for.

Ron says he’s going to be in London for the last week of the holidays. Can you make it? Will your aunt and uncle let you come? I really hope you can. If not, I’ll see you on the Hogwarts Express on September the first!

Love from,

Hermione

P.S. Ron says Percy’s Head Boy. I’ll bet Percy’s really pleased. Ron doesn’t seem too happy about it.

Harry laughed again as he put Hermione’s letter aside and picked up her present. Knowing Hermione, he was sure it would be a large book full of very difficult spells – but it wasn’t. His heart gave a huge bound as he ripped back the paper and saw a sleek black leather case with silver words stamped across it:  _ Broomstick Servicing Kit _ .

“Blimey, Hermione,” Harry whispered, unzipping the case to look inside.

There was a large jar of Fleetwood’s High-Finish Handle Polish, a pair of gleaming silver Tail-Twig Clippers, a tiny brass compass to clip onto your broom for long journeys, and a  _ Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broomcare _ .

Next, he turned to the parcel that Romulus’ owl, Belren, had brought him. He picked up the small envelope first, and inside was another letter.

For Harry

First of all: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Ron wrote about that phone call. His dad loves muggle stuff, you’d think he’d have a bit more tact!

I’d love to tell you that not much has happened my end of things, but that wouldn’t be the truth. I shouldn’t tell you in a letter, just in case, but I’ll tell you in London the week before term starts – that is, if you can come. If not, I’ll tell you on the train.

Happy birthday again!

Your twin,

Romulus

Harry smiled. He and Romulus weren’t really twins, but their appearance was so stunningly similar that, upon first meeting the pair of them, everyone assumed they were brothers. He turned to the awkwardly shaped package Romulus had sent. He pulled back the brown paper, and inside were two separately wrapped presents. 

He went for the smallest first.

It was a framed photograph, one that Colin Creevey had taken of the pair of them the year before. They'd swapped clothes for a joke, so Romulus was wearing Gryffindor robes with Harry wearing Slytherin ones. Harry grinned and placed it gently on his bedside cabinet. Like all wizarding photos, it was moving. The pair of them were laughing together about something Harry couldn't remember.

He went for the big box next. Inside was a burgundy sweatshirt with golden writing on it. Harry unfolded it and held it up to read by the moonlight.

In the centre was a picture of the Golden Snitch. Curved around the top and bottom, it said ‘Gryffindor’ and ‘Seeker’. He grinned again, and picked up the note that fell out of it.

I went into a Muggle shop and had it made especially for you – and I’ve got one too.

Harry was confused for a moment – Romulus hadn’t made the Slytherin team last year, Draco had bought his way in… He read on.

When I tried out for seeker last year, Flint wanted me on the team straight away, but Lucius bought Draco’s way in. This year, Flint wrote to him and told him that for all Flint cared, Lucius could take back the new broomsticks, because he wanted me on the team. He said we could win on Cleansweep Sixes with me as seeker. Lucius has never had anyone demand anything of him before, so he didn’t really know what to do. In the end, he didn’t do anything – but I’ve got Draco’s broom and spot now. He’s not happy at all.

Harry was conflicted. On one hand, he knew Romulus had the skill to be a seeker, as they’d flown together last year, helping Harry practice when Wood couldn’t – but on the other, what if he beat Romulus and they stopped being friends? What if Romulus beat him and lauded it over him? Harry shook his head. He was being silly, he and Romulus would be friends no matter what.

He looked at his bright red sweatshirt again, and immediately put it on. He noticed it had his name and number (Potter, 7) on the back. He felt very grateful toward Romulus for this gift – it felt like something he could wear in the Muggle world without drawing  _ too  _ much attention. After all, the muggles would probably just think it was from a book or something.

Harry picked up his last parcel. He recognised the untidy scrawl on the brown paper at once: this was from Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper. He tore off the top layer of paper and glimpsed something green and leathery, but before he could unwrap it properly, the parcel gave a strange quiver, and whatever was inside it snapped loudly – as though it had jaws.

Harry froze. He knew that Hagrid would never send him anything dangerous on purpose, but then, Hagrid didn’t have a normal person’s view of what was dangerous. Hagrid had been known to befriend giant spiders, buy vicious, three-headed dogs from men in pubs and sneak illegal dragon eggs into his cabin.

Harry poked the parcel nervously. It snapped loudly again. Harry reached for the lamp on his bedside table, gripped it firmly in one hand and raised it over his head, ready to strike. Then he seized the rest of the wrapping paper in his other hand and pulled.

And out fell – a book. Harry just had time to register its handsome green cover, emblazoned with the golden title,  _ The Monster Book of Monsters _ , before it flipped onto its edge and scuttled sideways along the bed like some weird crab.

“Uh-oh,” Harry muttered. The book toppled off the bed with a loud clunk and shuffled rapidly across the room. Harry followed it stealthily. The book was hiding in the dark space under his desk. Praying that the Dursleys were still fast asleep, Harry got down on his hands and knees and reached towards it. “Ouch!”


	5. Prisoner of Azkaban, Part 2

Harry explained all about Mr and Mrs Weasley’s argument and the warning Mr Weasley had just given him. When he’d finished, Ron and Romulus looked thunderstruck, and Hermione had her hands over mouth. She finally lowered them to say, “Sirius Black escaped to come after  _ you _ ? Oh, Harry… you’ll have to be really, really careful. Don’t go looking for trouble, Harry…”

“I don’t go looking for trouble,” said Harry, nettled. “Trouble usually finds me.”

“How thick would Harry have to be, to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill him?” Said Ron shakily.

They were taking the news worse than Harry had expected. He looked at Romulus, waiting for him to say something – and he remembered part of Romulus’ letter earlier in the summer.

“Weren’t you going to tell me something?” He asked. “You said things hadn’t exactly been quiet your end, but you daren’t say in a letter?”

Ron and Hermione turned to look at Romulus, too.

He looked around at them. Not two months ago he’d sat there and told them his father was Lord Voldemort, and now he was about to tell them…

“It’s just that… Sirius Black is my uncle,” he said quickly. “Well, sort of. Second uncle. My mother and he are cousins.”

Harry shook his head slowly.

“Are you just related to every awful wizard in history, or what?” Ron blurted, and Romulus laughed a little bit.

“Apparently.”

“Well, all the awfulness seems to have dissipated when it got to you, didn’t it?” Hermione told him, going bright red as soon as she’d said it, clearly having not meant to do so out loud. Romulus smiled at her, but she was now staring out the window.

~*~*~

Romulus’ first Quidditch match drew ever nearer, and every time they had a free moment, he and Harry were discussing tactics. Harry would never give up Gryffindor secrets, but he was helping Romulus to feel more confident every time he suggested something.

Harry, Ron and Hermione walked with him down to the Quidditch pitch that day. They didn’t exactly want Slytherin to win the cup, but they did want to support their friend. Angelina had, earlier that day, complained to Harry about his decision to cheer Romulus on.

He had retorted by telling her that he wanted to play against Slytherin in the final match, that it would be refreshing to have a real opponent on their team. She was still very annoyed at him, though.

Harry gave Romulus an encouraging pat on the back as they reached the changing rooms.

“Remember, don’t let yourself get distracted –” Harry said.

“Avoid the beaters at all cost –” Ron added.

“Do me a favour and don’t let Diggory win,” Harry finished firmly.

Romulus looked expectantly at Hermione. She rolled her eyes at him. “ _ Do _ try not to get yourself injured, like Harry always manages to.”

The four of them laughed a little, and Romulus headed off into the changing rooms, his sleek black Nimbus Two-Thousand-and-One slung over his shoulder.

Harry, Ron and Hermione made their way up to the stands, joining Dean, Seamus, Neville and Ginny.

From the moment the whistle blew, the three of them were cheering for Romulus. Several of their Gryffindor brethren looked extremely confused, as did the Slytherins on the other side of the stands, but they ignored them.

Thirty minutes into the match, and Hufflepuff were seventy points up, with Slytherin at a measly twenty. Harry jumped when an emerald green blur shot over his head, trailed by a bright yellow – Romulus was going after the Snitch, with Diggory hot on his heels.

“Macmillan with the quaffle and – blimey!” Lee Jordan’s voice called, “Lestrange has seen the Snitch! He’s heading straight down to the ground with Diggory an inch behind him, he’s going to end the match –”

There was a great groaning from the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw crowds. Romulus had pulled out of the dive at the last moment, leaving Diggory to crash straight into the hard grass at top speed. He rolled off his broom, scrambled towards it and took flight again, blood dripping from his nose.

“FOUL! HE WAS FEINTING! FOUL!” Seamus yelled. Madam Hooch was just about to blow her whistle.

“AND LESTRANGE CATCHES THE SNITCH, GAINING SLYTHERIN ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY POINTS AND ENDING THE MATCH!” Lee shouted through his megaphone.

Everyone was very confused, and when all the players landed, there was lots of shouting going on between them and Madam Hooch. Diggory landed last, and hurried over to her. The shouting died down a little bit, but Harry still couldn’t tell what Diggory and Madam Hooch were talking about.

He saw Diggory nod, and Madam Hooch blew her whistle. “Slytherin have a fair win,” she announced to the stadium. The students groaned again, but Slytherin house flew into an excited frenzy.

Harry watched as Diggory limped towards Romulus and held out his hand. Romulus looked quite worried, but took it anyway. Cedric seemed to be smiling under all the blood, and Madam Pomfrey was now trying to clean him up while he talked to Romulus.

“I don’t understand,” Hermione said, looking at Harry and Ron, “What happened? Why did Madam Hooch have to declare the match? Rom caught the snitch.”

“The Wronski Feint is practically illegal,” Ron said, and explained further at Harry and Hermione’s confused looks. “One seeker pretends he’s seen the snitch, and starts ‘following’ it. They wait until the other seeker is literally right up their arse –”

“Ronald!”

“And then dive for the ground, only to swing out at the last minute and send the other seeker crashing to their doom. Only this time, it looks like Rom was  _ actually _ following the snitch. Diggory probably went to tell Madam Hooch that he could see it, too, and that it wasn’t a Feint.”

Slytherin had barely won a match since Harry had become Gryffindor seeker two years ago, so it didn’t seem odd for the players to lift Romulus onto their shoulders and carry him cheerfully from the stadium.

The next day, Romulus confirmed Ron’s theory, and the three boys had a rather enjoyable talk about what a fantastic capture it was. Romulus had snatched up the Snitch when it was just passing in front of Malfoy’s face, in the stands.

“Honestly, I don’t think he saw it,” he laughed. “It stopped right in front of his nose, and he didn’t even notice!”

~*~*~

“Sir?” Romulus asked, stood at the door of Professor Snape’s office. “I wondered if I might have a word with you.”

Snape gave him an annoyed look, but dismissed the first-year Hufflepuff quivering in front of him.

“Well?” He prompted. “What do you want?”

Romulus pursed his lips. He knew Professor Snape didn’t really like him – after all, he was a traitor to Slytherin house – but he still had to make himself heard.

“I presume you were there, when I caught the snitch last week –”

“Of course I was there.”

“The thing is,” he started, then paused, and figured he should just jump straight to the point. Snape didn’t seem like the kind of person who would be kept waiting. “Flint’s a truly awful captain, sir, and the team itself is just a load of bollo- uh, I mean, bludgers. I want you to keep me in mind for Captain.”

Snape stared at him, seeming slightly confused. “I beg your pardon?”

Romulus straightened up a little. “Bletchley can’t save a single goal, the chasers all rely on the opposing keeper being knocked out before they can score anything, and Derrick and Bole are better at hitting bludgers at their own team than any other. We’ll never win the Quidditch cup in this state. We’ve been playing unfairly, and we need a new team who are well and truly whipped into shape.”

“You want to be Captain?” Snape sneered. “ _ You _ ? A third year? The son of  _ You-Know-Who _ – that’s right, I know all about your sordid little family tree,” he smirked, as though he were revelling at the look on Romulus’ face. “I do wonder what the Dark Lord would say, if he were to know his son was more interested in Quidditch than in becoming a great wizard…”

“He wouldn’t say anything,” Romulus interjected angrily, “He’s dead. Either way, I don’t care what he thinks. If Slytherin house wants glory, wants to win the cup, then we need to go about it a very different way.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, in silence. When Snape finally spoke again, it was even quieter than before, as though he didn’t want to be overheard.

“If you wish to become captain, you shall present me with game plans. New manoeuvres, improved ones, a list of potential candidates – I shan’t be passing out the captaincy like chocolate at Hallow–”

Snape was cut off by Romulus dropping a brown paper folder marked ‘ _ Quidditch Practice _ ’ onto the desk in front of him. Romulus then turned on his heel and left, seeing the little first year run at full pelt down the hallway.

~*~*~

“You never!” Ron exclaimed, grinning and laughing. “Just dropped it on the desk as he was talking? Bloody brilliant!”

“Thanks,” Romulus said, hitching his bag further on his shoulder. Ron had come down to breakfast a little later than usual, as he’d overslept, and bumped into Romulus on his way through the castle. “Do you think he’ll say yes?” he asked hesitantly.

“If he’s got any sense, yeah!” Ron nodded fervently. “You’ve got a real plan for the team, you’ve told me all about it. I mean, I’d hate for Slytherin to win the Quidditch cup, but with you leading them, I could never complain.”

Romulus smiled at the floor. It felt nice to have Ron’s support, and he was thankful for Ron’s manoeuvre advice when he'd drawn up the plans. They walked into the Great Hall, and headed for the Gryffindor table together.

“Is it just me,” said Ron, leaning a little closer to Romulus, “Or is everyone staring at you?”

Romulus had noticed it as well. From the entrance hall, the students had been making a hell of a racket that breakfast. But now that Romulus was in the room, everything seemed to have hushed. He could see people whispering to each other, and as he passed a Ravenclaw sitting at the end of the Gryffindor table, he distinctly heard the words “You-Know-Who’s son!”

His worst fears were confirmed when they reached Harry and Hermione, as Hermione was giving him a very sad look, as if she was very sorry that his secret had gotten out. The whispers were slowly building back up to talking, but Romulus could still hear “Slytherin heir,” and “Dark Lord’s son,” through all of it.

“But, how did they find out?” Ron whispered, sitting opposite Harry. Rom took the space next to him. “It’s not as though we’ve been blurting it all over the place.”

Romulus recalled, just the day before, the first year Hufflepuff that Snape had been berating. The first year Hufflepuff who he had then seen running away from Snape’s office as he left it. He should have known before, but in his excitement he had completely ignored this. The kid had been listening at the door.

He relayed this to the others – not including, of course, his bid to become Slytherin Captain. He wanted it to be a surprise for Harry and Hermione, but as Ron had a whole life behind him of knowing about Quidditch, he’d wanted his help.

“So he told them then,” Hermione sighed.

“Honestly, if I ever find out who the little toe-rag is…” Ron grumbled. Romulus just looked around the hall, at the students still staring at him. He looked up at the teachers’ table, too. Dumbledore was busying himself in a conversation with McGonagall. Rom guessed it was about him. Snape had the decency to look at least marginally ashamed.

Hagrid was… well, Hagrid was beaming at him. Romulus narrowed his eyes in confusion, and Hagrid mouthed the words ‘Tell you later!’

“By the way,” Ron said, piling scrambled egg onto his toast, “Did I mention that Dad can get tickets for the Quidditch World Cup?”

“There’s a World Cup?” Harry asked, adjusting his tie.

“Uh, duh!” Ron rolled his eyes. “Anyway, this summer it’s the Four Hundred and Twenty Second cup, and it’s being held here, in Britain! We could all go!”

**Author's Note:**

> So that's the first part! Please, please leave feedback, kudos, comments, anything!


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